


Willing Pawn

by Catw00man



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Community: fma_slashfest, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-06
Updated: 2011-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:03:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catw00man/pseuds/Catw00man
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean's always been Mustang's willing subordinate, now more than ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Willing Pawn

**Author's Note:**

> I have a feeling the writer of the prompt might have had something different in mind, but for me this could only go one way. :-) Also I have to say a *MASSIVELY HUGE* thanks to [](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zippit/profile)[**Zippit**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zippit) for the under the wire beta. She never lets me down and it really means the world to me. :-) Ty hun!
> 
> Fill for the [fma_slashfest](http://fma-slashfest.livejournal.com) prompt: _Roy/Jean-- "I'm not him, you know." Angst_  
> 

“I’ll be in the reading room on the third floor, Lieutenant.”

Jean looks up from his desk as the new Brigadier General walks out of the office. The words sound casual, as if he were just informing his staff of his whereabouts, but were that the case he would’ve told Hawkeye, not him. The words veil a hidden command and he knows he’ll follow it, just like he has before. He glances over at Hawkeye wondering, not for the first time, if she knows what’s going on. But as usual she shows no indication anything is out of the ordinary. Jean’s fairly certain she’d give the same reaction whether she knew or not. She’s always been about protecting Mustang and now is no different.

He looks up at the clock on the wall and watches the minutes tick down. He’s never supposed to follow immediately. Jean fidgets with his lighter, spinning it on his desktop. He should be trying to “look busy,” but he can’t. He’s never been very good at this type of subterfuge. His knee bounces under his desk and he considers disobeying his order. He could always ask Hawkeye if she had something she needed to be done, but for all he knows she could be in on this as well. No, he won’t deny him. He never has.

Jean slaps his hand over the spinning lighter the instant the required fifteen minutes have passed. He’d have killed the time with a cigarette but he’s been told not to come smelling like smoke before and the fact has him twice as antsy. He pockets his lighter then uses his desk to push himself to his feet. “Captain, I….” He pauses for a moment when Hawkeye’s amber gaze locks on him and he hates this part. He hates lying even if she might know what’s really going on. He picks up a random report from his desk. “I need to go turn this in.”

“Go right ahead, Lieutenant.”

He remains motionless until her eyes return to her paperwork and he swears she sees right through him. Or maybe it’s just his own guilty conscience. He slips around his desk, report clenched tight in his hand, and heads out of the office without another word or a glance to his other officemates. It’s bad enough to think Hawkeye might know what’s going on. If Breda or Falman or even Fuery knew…he doubts he’d ever be able to look them in the eyes again.

Jean takes a deep breath and slows his pace the moment he’s out of the office. He’s not stalling, exactly. He’s only supposed to wait a minimum of fifteen minutes before leaving the office and he’s not required to take the most direct route, though he usually does. He’s never seen much point in delaying the inevitable. He makes his way to the back stairwell and slowly climbs up to the third floor.

This is not what he expected when he came back to the military. Getting his ability to walk again was nothing less than a miracle, though he assumes Mustang must’ve felt the same way getting his sight back. Turns out Marcoh is one heck of a doctor. Jean knew he owed Mustang for all of it and that’s why he didn’t hesitate to reenlist. The Chief still needs all the support he can get and he will stand behind him one hundred percent. He just never dreamed this would become part of his “duties.”

He reaches the reading room that’s actually more like a small library. How many times has it been a place like this? He knows why Mustang wants it to be here and it tears him up in ways he won’t admit to. Libraries. Study rooms. Anywhere there are shelves and shelves of books. They all have one important thing in common. Jean takes a deep breath then quietly opens the door, locking it behind him once he passes through.

The lights are turned low, only a few table lamps on and he doesn’t even see him, but he’s here. Jean has a moment of déjà vu because if he didn’t know better he’d think it was several years ago and someone else would be here studying in this room. But he does know better and his heart sinks even more. It wouldn’t be so bad if he weren’t so damn obvious about it. He feels a hand on his arm and the next thing he’s being pulled into the stacks, between two towering rows of dusty books.

Lips meet his with no warning, hard and firm and he yields to them immediately. He wants this. Mustang’s never once forced him and sometimes he wonders if it would be easier if he didn’t want it so much. He’d stop if Jean ever asked, but somehow the thought of him doing this with someone else hurts more than being with him. Maybe one day he’ll be able to say no, but as long as there’s the smallest shred of hope this could be something it’s not he’ll never turn him away.

Jean’s pressed back against a bookcase so hard he’s glad it’s bolted to the floor. Mustang’s always this way in the beginning, so frantic and wanting. Jean ignores the hard shelf digging into his back and reaches up to thread his left hand through Mustang’s hair. It always has to be his left hand, never his right, even though that’s the one he’d sooner use. His right hand is much too warm and calloused for Mustang to accept his touch against his skin. Jean tugs his hair lightly as he deepens the kiss, the way he knows he likes, and he’s rewarded with a low sound of desire that temporarily wipes out all his reservations. He presses his body flush against Mustang’s and grips his hip tight with his right hand. Yes, he most definitely wants this.

Mustang’s hands roam up and down his body and in this moment he can almost believe he’s the one he wants. He can hear it in the low moans he makes, can taste it in his kiss, feel it in the way he grabs him desperately, but it’s all a lie. Jean slides his hand from Mustang’s hip to between his legs and the sound he makes sends desire straight to his groin. He rubs his palm hard over his thick cock and Jean’s knees are already getting weak at the thought of feeling him so full and hard inside him. He’s more than anyone he’s ever been with and he wants this, badly.

“Fuck,” Mustang gasps and rocks into Jean’s eager hand. He runs it up and down the hard bulge Mustang’s uniform pants are doing nothing to hide. His eyes are closed and Jean takes advantage of the rare moment to really look at him. His face’s scrunched in pleasure, his breaths are coming short and fast and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything sexier. Yes, he used to be a ladies’ man and he loved them the bustier the better. But since Mustang first kissed him…everything’s changed.

Jean reaches out for him, pulling him into another hot kiss and Mustang pins him even harder against the shelves. He hears books fall but he doesn’t care. All he can focus on is Mustang grinding hard against him. He pulls his hand from between them and hisses as Mustang grinds their cocks together through their clothes. It’s hot and hard and nothing at all like being with a woman, and he loves it. He reaches around to grab Mustang’s ass and that’s when he breaks the kiss and spins him around. Jean grabs the shelves as Mustang’s hand run over him possessively, touching him all over.

One arm reaches around to open his coat and he sucks in a breath when Mustang untucks his shirt and runs his hand up his chest. He feels his other hand glide up the back of his neck and thread through his short hair, leaning him forward a bit more. He asked Jean once if he’d consider growing it longer, but that was one step farther than he could go. Jean moans low when Mustang rolls one of his nipples between his fingers and slides the other hand down his back. He feels him slip his hand into his pants pocket and pull out a tube of lube. Jean’s carried with him since Mustang gave it to him and he’s often wondered what Mustang would do if one day he “forgot” it, but he’s never been able to make himself deny them both.

Mustang’s lips suck at his neck as he pushes down his trousers and Jean’s body hums with anticipation. He couldn’t believe the first time Mustang did this with him on military grounds and despite so many things it’s still the biggest turn on of his life. He loves that Mustang wants his body. He just wishes he wanted the rest of him. Jean swallows back the emotion threatening to spoil the moment and focuses on the feel of Mustang’s slick fingers against his ass. He groans low as they slip inside and become all he can think about. He’s made him feel things no one else ever has and he wants more. Now.

Jean bites his tongue to keep from begging because Mustang doesn’t want to hear his voice right now. It’s not that he never acknowledges him for him. They’ve shared many drinks at the bar and he’s even been invited into Mustang’s house. But right now he knows exactly what he’s trying to do. Mustang’s fingers thrust deeper inside, curling upward until he’s up on his toes with need. Jean hangs his head, spreads his legs wider and thankfully Mustang gets the point because he carefully pulls his fingers away.

He grits his teeth and tries to relax at the same time because the first stretch is always the hardest. Jean closes his eyes when he feels his thick cock against his ass and he whimpers softly as Mustang reaches around to stroke him. He’s always made this good and he knows he will again. Jean’s hands tighten on the shelves again and he can’t stay silent when Mustang finally pushes forward, slowly burying himself inside inch by torturous inch. Jean pants as his body adjusts to him, the initial thrust always just on this side of too much. But Mustang realizes it and he kisses down his neck and jawline as his hand works him over, stroking up and down and squeezing him in all the right ways. It only takes about a minute for the fullness to go from painful to bearable and he rocks his hips back against Mustang’s to let him know.

And that’s when everything slides sideways.

If someone were to ask him what if felt like to be fucked by Mustang he’d never be able to put it into words. It’s being torn apart and put back together with each and every stroke. It’s blinding, amazing and completely overwhelming at once. It’s a loss of control and a gaining of something more he can’t even name. When Mustang’s doing this to him there is nothing else. Jean closes his eyes and rocks between Mustang’s hand around him and his pounding thrusts. The whole world could find them now and he wouldn’t even care. He gasps for breath, grits his teeth as the blinding passion builds and before he’s even aware it’s happening he’s crying out and shaking with release. He’s stunned, breathless and trembling the same way he is every time.

Mustang’s ragged breathing against his ear is the first thing he’s able to focus on. The other is the arm wrapped tight around his waist. Mustang’s leaning against his back and he closes his eyes for a moment as he feels him kiss and nuzzles against his neck. Jean’s slowly becoming more aware of his body and he winces when he realizes Mustang was able to catch his release by pulling up his boxers. At least they won’t need to clean up any books. It’s not going to make the rest of the afternoon very comfortable though. Mustang sucks lightly against his neck as he pulls out of him and tugs his trousers up. His lips press soft against the spot beneath Jean’s ear and whisper softly, “Thank you.”

Jean swallows hard and he should leave it at that. They’ve found a way to make this work between them but his tongue apparently has other ideas. He reaches down to fasten his trousers and shifts against the wetness. “I’m not him, you know.”

Mustang’s arm suddenly tightens around him for an instant and then pulls away. Jean’s certain he’ll leave or not even acknowledge his words, but instead he feels a hand on his waist urging him to turn around. He hesitates before turning and is surprised to see Mustang looking down at the ground. His eyes turn upwards slowly and there’s no missing the deep sadness in their dark depths. It makes him want to run and take his words back but before he can move Mustang reaches out and lightly cups his cheek.

“I know.” Jean watches him swallow as if the words themselves were hard to force out. “Believe me, I know.”

Mustang holds his gaze a little longer then pulls back and lets his hand fall away. Jean stares as he turns from him and he needs to leave. They don’t do this. It always goes unsaid. Jean runs his hands over himself, checking and straightening his uniform then quickly heads for the door. He stops with his hand on the knob because he can’t leave it this way. He just can’t.

“Meet me for drinks later?”

His entire body tenses as he waits for Mustang’s reply and he’s afraid to even look back. What if he pushed him too far? They both know what’s going on here. He holds his breath when he hears a sound behind him and only lets it out when he hears his voice. “Yes. Usual place.” Jean starts to turn the knob when he hears his voice again. “And Havoc, go ahead and take care of yourself. I’ll deal with Hawkeye.”

A slight smile spreads across Jean’s face because it’s not the first time he’s covered for him this way. At least he can get a change of pants for the rest of the day. Who knows maybe tonight will turn into those rare nights when they both have a few too many and he ends up with that special invitation to go back to Mustang’s place. It’s in those moments that he almost thinks he sees who he really is. He clears his throat and nods his thanks before opening the door and making his way down the hall.

Jean stops when he reaches the stairwell and for a moment he leans against the wall and closes his eyes. Never in his wildest imaginings did he ever think Ed’s leaving the military could lead to this. To be honest, he never even knew about them. As far as he knows no one does. He can’t understand how he could leave and never look back and not for the first time Jean feels like cursing his name. But then he thinks about the fact this never would’ve happened if he’d never left and he wonders if he should continue to curse him…or thank him.

It’s messed up, and he knows it. It’s twisted and crazy and nothing he’d ever planned for himself. He opens his eyes and takes a deep breath. For today, at least, he thinks it’ll be “thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and concrit are always loved and appreciated. :-)


End file.
